"’Out wid ye,’ says the divil, turnin’ half round an’ howldin’ be wan hand to the big shtone nose he’d just done, an’ shakin’ the other fist wid the chisel in it at Lord Robert. ’D’ ye think I want to be aggervated wid the likes av ye, ye whey-faced shpalpeen, an’ me losin’ the whole day, an’ business pressin’ at this saison, an’ breakin’ me back on the job, an’ me fingers sore wid the chisel, an’ me tail shkinned wid howldin’ on? Bad luck to the shtone, it’s harder than a Scotchman’s head, it is, so it is,’ says he, turnin’ back agin when he seen the saint at the dure av the cave. An’ thin he begun a peckin’ away at the clift fur dear life, shwearin’ to himself, so the saint cudn’t hear him, every time he give his knuckles an onlucky crack wid the hammer. "’Ye’re not worth the throuble,’ says he to Lord Robert; he was that full av rage he cudn’t howld in. ’It’s a paltherin’ gossoon I was fur thriflin’ wid ye whin I was sure av ye annyhow.’ "’Yer a liar,’ says Lord Robert, ’ye desaivin’ nagurly Haythen. If ye was sure o’ me phat did ye want to make a bargain fur?’ "’Yer another,’ says Satan. ’Isn’t a sparrer in yer hand betther than a goose on a shtring?’ "So they were goin’ on wid the blaggârdin’ match, whin the blessed saint, that come out whin he heard thim begin, an’ thin set on the dure a-watchin’, to see that owld Nick didn’t schamp the job, interfared. "’Howld yer pace, Satan, an’ kape at yer work,’ says he. ’An’ for you, ye blatherin’, milk-faced villin, wid the heart as black as a crow, walk aff wid ye an’ go down on yer hard-hearted onbelavin’ knees, or it’s no good ’ull come o’ ye.’ An’ so he did. "Do I belave the shtory? Troth, I dunno. It’s quare things happened in them owld days, an’ there’s the face on the clift as ugly as the divil cud be an’ the hammer an’ chisel are in the church an’ phat betther proof cud ye ax? "Phat come av the lovers? No more do I know that, barrin’ they grew owld an’ shtayed poor an’ forgot the shpring-time av youth in the winter av age, but if they lived a hunderd years, they niver forgot the marryin’ in the saint’s cave, wid the black face av the Avil Wan lookin’ on from the dark corner." [Illustration: "’Kape from me,’ says the divil"] THE DEFEAT OF THE WIDOWS. [Illustration: Initial: "The Defeat of the Widows"]